About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along
I keep missing exciting and historic things. The other day, I was down at Niche Frames in Stokes Croft, getting some glass cut for picture frames. While I was waiting, I popped over to Primark, because I wanted some new combat trousers. My last pair is falling to bits after ten years. They are about the only item of clothing left from my pre-transition days, and very handy for climbing trees and scrambling around under cars.
I was happy to find that Primark still stock them, and they are still very cheap. So I got some. And then I picked up the glass and headed home.
So I missed Ian Goggin and Kristin Skarsholt, who were round the corner at the Registry Office, being refused a civil partnership.
Yesterday I learned how to pick locks. Annie had closed her filing cabinet, and it had locked shut, and she couldn’t find the key. And since I was passing that way anyway (the trousers turned out to be too small, so I was taking them back. Evidently sizing has become much more stingy over the last ten years, hem hem) I dropped by. I jiggled a bent nail around inside the lock and, much to my surprise, it pinged open. “A new career beckons!” I thought.
Heading down to the city centre, the traffic was going slowly and there were police everywhere. As I rode along Queens Road, I stood up on the pedals to get a better view ahead, and ….my boot caught the key of the lock on the back wheel, and it snapped off and bounced down the road. (It’s one of those Dutch locks, where the key remains in place until you engage the lock and then remove the key). A police car indulgently stopped while I retrieved the key stub and pulled into the museum forecourt to examine the damage. I decided that I had better go straight home and fix it, as I couldn’t really leave the bike anywhere like that.
So I missed the great student demonstration against the cuts.
Back home, I assembled an assortment of bits of wire and prongs and snipe-nosed pliers, and sat on the pavement prodding and probing the broken bit of key in the lock. I finally got it out. While I was working at it a few people walked by, taking no apparent notice, apart from one chap with a shaved head and sticky-out arms, who muttered quietly as he passed “You ought to watch you don’t get caught…” . Thanks, mate. So I was an honorary bike thief for ten minutes, anyway.
It was too late in the day by now to have another go cycling to the centre, so I hopped into the car, and …. the starter motor jammed in the engaged position. Very annoying, not least because it was new only 8 weeks ago.
So it turned out to be just one of those days.